It had been a couple of weeks since Tim last saw Marcella. It was strange to him that he hadn't seen her in the police station whilst he had been sorting out this embezzlement mess. He had texted, called, had been to her house and he even spent the night outside seeing if she returned home. But there was nothing, she had simply disappeared and he was starting to get worried.
After talking to Rav who had told Tim about everything that had happened with the case, what happened to Juliet and how she tried to jump off the roof but what he showed him a picture of, disturbed him; Marcella's cut off hair in a sink in the bathroom, blood dripping down the sides and her gold 'M' necklace put on top of it all.
Tim didn't know what to think when Rav showed him the state of the bathroom sink, but he knew that he had to find her more than anything. He got up off the chair in Rav's office and walked towards the door, "There's something else." Rav said, "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this." Tim turned and walked back towards the desk, "We found out that Marcella had squatted in a house the night she went off, the house was burnt to the ground. They couldn't identify the bodies, but one of them matched Marcella's DNA. I'm sorry, Tim. She's dead."
The words She's dead rang through his head like a police siren, his breathing became more shallow and rapid and he wanted to scream. He tried to speak, but he just couldn't. It was as if all of the words he wanted say, shout and scream just was just being blocked and his mouth had stopped working. It was only a few weeks ago he was cooking for her, downing tequila shots in her kitchen and spending the night at her place and despite their difficulties of late, it suddenly dawned on him that he would never get the chance to do that ever again.
He stormed out of Rav's office to the nearest bathroom. As soon as he entered he leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror, his face was paler than before and all the colour had drained from the surface. It took him a few beats before he backed away from the mirror and moved towards a bin in the corner of the room and kicked it as hard as he could. It didn't do much damage so he kept stamping on it, stamping so there was nothing left to stamp on; the entire bin had disintegrated before he let out an almighty roar, until he couldn't scream any longer.
Out of breath, he tried to focus, but it was too much for him. He'd never dealt with something like this before; loss quite like this. Tears streamed down his face as he leant against the wall and slumped down to the ground, burying his head into his hands, he sobbed. From the moment he met Marcella all those years ago, he was in love with her and when he finally got his chance to show how much he did love her, he ruined it all, and he never got the chance to make it right. To him, she spent her last hours hating him because she thought he had betrayed her, something he'd never do and now there was no chance to explain it, and it killed him inside.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." he whispered to himself as he rubbed his temples furiously. None of this felt real to Tim and no matter how much he wished it was, this wasn't a dream. Everything that had mattered to him the most over the last few months was slipping away.
He took another deep breath and got up off of the floor, making his way to the sink. Running the water, he made his hands into a bowl shape and filled it before splashing it on his face to take down some of the puffiness from his eyes. He took another few minutes just trying to calm down, trying to collect his thoughts together, but he didn't know what he'd do without her, knowing that he never explained and just knowing how much he loved her.
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Tim left the police station and made his way back home to his flat. Even just sat in his car, driving home felt strange, like he knew that life wasn't going to be the same again. He kept think back to how far they had come; the moment he first met her over fifteen years ago, seeing her again after so long a few months ago and finally being able to call her his before he stupidly allowed her to let him go so easily without even putting up a fight.
As he drove, he kept remembering the picture Rav showed him, and the words she's dead kept repeating in his mind. He started to lose focus and he knew if he didn't park his car up soon, he was going to cause an accident. Driving down the road, he saw an empty space coming up on the left so he parked into it and turned off the engine, and that's when it happened again; the tears and the anger. The tears streamed down his cheek and dripped onto the jacket sleeve of his arm that was still extended and gripping to the wheel. Anger soon followed when he started to think of all the things he should've said to Marcella in that kitchen instead of just giving her the key without a fight. How he made a stupid, regrettable comment about all the people that had left her life. And how he'd let his ambition cloud his realisation of everything good he had in his life.
The steering wheel started to take a bashing when he began hitting it repeatedly with the palm of his hand until he could barely feel it any more. He let out a shaky breath and ran his hand down his face. Taking off his seatbelt, he opened the door and got out of the car, letting the the air and the spits of rain hit his skin. Tim felt exhausted and emotionally drained. Every time he thought of all of this, he felt like breaking down but he started to feel like he had nothing left to give. If he wasn't in such a built up area full of houses of people sleeping, he would just scream again like he did in the bathroom.
He wondered if he was in any state to drive but he had to get home. After taking a few deep breaths he got back in his car and finally made his way back to his flat.
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Tim spent the next few days sat at home, barely leaving his flat. He'd lost his appetite, barely slept and drunk himself stupid, and he only just managed to have a shower a day. All he wanted was to see Marcella again, even if it was just for a moment; just seeing her face is all he wanted, he had pictures but it wasn't enough.
He couldn't help but wonder what Marcella was even doing squatting in a house when she had a perfectly good home. He looked into it, well, he got Rav to and he still didn't feel it made any sense. But all he really wanted was to have her back.
Tim remembered about what they say about the stages of grief, he was going through all of them, except the last one, and all in the wrong order. Depression was the stage he knew he had reached, and bargaining and denial is constantly going to be there. He had already done the anger part and he stopped wanting to smash up everything he saw. Acceptance wasn't going to happen. Ever. Bargaining was how he felt now in the midst of him drinking himself deeper into a depression, he kept thinking about the "What Ifs"; What if he had told her the truth and they stayed together, what if he had been at the police station that night and he could've stopped her, what if he knew quicker she was sleeping rough and hadn't gone home so he could've helped her sooner. So many what ifs and too late to do anything about them.
He had lost count of the amount of beers he had drunk in the last few days. The amount of bottles scattered around his living room wasn't anywhere close to how much and he still didn't feel drunk, he was just sad and numb.
It was gone 3:00am, nowhere was open but he couldn't stand that he was still awake and still drinking. Every time he looked at a green beer bottle, it reminded him of her. It was the same beer he had drunk with her on several occasions, but it was his favourite and he just needed it.
The night time was the only time he felt comfortable leaving his flat; being in the light of the day sky felt too exposing to him, he looked awful and he knew it. He put on a hoodie and left, he didn't know where he was going, he just needed a walk.
